Where is that nature that casts our shadow? Where is that shadow that alone, calls our name? Under what moon does her voice whisper? Through what blood do her fingers reach? I am nothing but the sound of feet running. I am nothing but a single eye turned away from itself. I am the sound of laughter in an empty glade, and the stuttering last breath of a life lived in regret. I am alone with the alone, a mask, but not a man. I am her.